Page 4 of Scrum Heat

“Frankie? Can you sit up?”

I attempt movement, which is a tactical error. My head spins, and suddenly, there’s a warm, alpha hand behind my back.

I don’t know what cologne Theo's wearing, or if it’s just his scent straight from the source, but it’s doing unspeakable things to my nervous system. My entire spinal cord does the Macarena as I flinch away from him, and I swear that my ovaries high-five as my inner omega rolls over and shows her belly.

“Sorry,” I blurt, voice cracking. “I, uh… skipped breakfast. Low blood sugar. Definitely not a pheromone thing. Just a totally average, well-regulated citizen having a very normal day.”

Knife Jaw—whose muscles are somehow visiblethrough his hoodie—narrows his eyes. I get the distinct impression he could detect lies via sonar.

Evie frowns and flips open my file. “You’re not listed as scent-sensitive.”

“Oh,” I say, pushing a hand through my honey-blond hair. “That’s so weird. Maybe the form glitched? I was very busynotbeing a hormonal liability at the time.”

She does not laugh. Instead, she murmurs something about rescheduling the tour while they “verify some things”.

Translation: Make sure I'm not at risk of humping the club’s mascot mid-livestream.

“We’re going to get you checked over in medical,” she says, tucking my file under her arm.

“Oh no, that’s really not nec-”

“It is,” she smiles.With teeth. “We can’t risk letting you out of the building if you’re not stable.”

I half-laugh, trying to stand. “I mean, I’m definitely conscious now. That’s a win, right?”

“You still look pale,” says Knife Jaw. Now that my head's settling, I'm pretty sure he's Rory, the team captain.

“She’s flushed,” says Theo. “In patches.”

“Super helpful,” I mutter. “Thanks for the patch analysis.”

Evie gestures down the hall. “Let’s get you to medical—just a quick check. Better safe than emergency services.”

I mean, she’s technically my new boss. She controls my job, my housing, and probably the Wi-Fi password; so I’m not arguing.

I stagger upright and pretend everything is both fine and perfectly normal. I keep my gaze forward as I shuffle toward the medical room, flanked by judgment, regret, and two suspiciously thick-thighed demigods.

Theo's hand brushes against my lower back again, and a pulse of heat flares through my body. I'm pretty certain that I'm going to lose this job before I even get it, and what'sworse—

I think I've accidentally imprinted on a man whose thighs could crack a watermelonand mein a single lunge.

Chapter Two

Frankie

When I come to—again—two things are immediately clear.

One: I am not dead.

Two: I absolutely, positively wish I were.

Waking up would be fine; but waking up to the scent of eucalyptus muscle rub, industrial-strength testosterone, and dominance with a hint of lavender fabric softener?

Well.That’swhen I realize I’ve made a catastrophic series of life choices and should not be trusted with job applications.

My brain tries to help. It offers:Mate? Mates?? MULTIPLE???

I roll slowly onto my side and straight into a very firm, very muscular, verynakedmale thigh. I shriek, then jolt so hard I nearly launch myself off the table.

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